New Salwar Kameez = Treats for All Co-workers
Today I am wearing a new salwar kameez (picture a colorful
printed t-shirt that goes down to my knees plus matching drawstring baggy
pants), so at lunch my boss and co-workers asked me what treats they will all
be getting from me this afternoon. As it
turns out, here when you get new clothes it is customary to get your friends
little treats (e.g. ice cream) and enjoy your new purchase together.
I wanted to mention this salwar kameez exchange for a few
reasons, but mostly because it reminded me that three months into my stay in
Haveri there are still so many cultural practices that I am not aware of, never
mind assimilated to. Then there are
others I’ve got a solid handle on at this point, and still others where I’ve
got a lot more progress to make. The
head bobble, for example: I’ve got it covered.
What clothes are appropriate to wear in Haveri (more conservative than
Hubli-Dharwad), bargaining at the local market or with an auto driver, getting
my clothes stitched by a tailor who only speaks Kannada – these are all things
I now feel comfortable with.
My comfort level drops significantly when I try to utilize
my meager Kannada skills meaningfully rather than resort to gestures – I still
have so much to learn! I’ve moved well
beyond the point of knowing only the basic words, though, and am now starting
to form some simple sentences. (At
lunch today, my Kannada proclamations of “This is my new watch” and “These
snacks are very sweet” were met with resounding approval.) And more and more frequently now there are
times when people are speaking at what sounds like break-neck speed in Kannada,
yet I am able to pick up a few words.
Those few words are so rewarding, because they often make the difference
between me sitting there totally clueless and me having at least half an idea
of what the conversation in the room is about.
Another area where my assimilation to local practices has
been only partial has been fulfilling traditional gender roles. Most women here are housewives; judging by
the number of hours I spend at Navachetana and the fact that I’m unmarried,
this is clearly not the case for me. But
all women here, whether they work or not, take care of their family’s cooking,
cleaning and clothes washing. Granted,
the few women who work leave their jobs early to be able to do this, and I stay
at the office late. Still, the more
important point is that combining both roles – a long day at the office (mostly
men’s work) followed by bargaining at food stalls and cooking up an array of
dishes (mostly women’s work) is a task I have sometimes found to be challenging.
Mostly, though, it has led me to admire just how much women do here each
day, and the time and effort they put into caring for their families.
Then there are other aspects of culture here that initially
made no sense to me that have now become much clearer. During my first month or so, I could not
understand why every time I was in line people were hyper sensitive about
whether someone had moved forward an inch – and if they had, everyone on the line better move forward immediately also! After more than one occasion of standing in
line with the person behind me voluntarily pressed up against my back, with one
hand on my shoulder so as to push me forward when the line moved (since
apparently I never move forward fast enough), someone (incidentally, a person
standing behind me in line) explained to me that it’s because people always cut
in line here. Such a simple, sensible
and obvious explanation – but for whatever reason, it hadn’t occurred to me.
Of course, there are some aspects of culture here in Haveri
that I am familiar with but would rather not incorporate into my daily
routine. For example, the practice of
making up an answer to a question because you want to be helpful, even if you
have no idea what the correct answer to the question is. Telling someone you will do something
“tomorrow” for weeks on end. The tobacco
chewing and the constant spitting that goes along with it. (Particularly spitting while on the bus, that
is not for me – on my last bus trip, spit flew out of the window next to seat
in front of mine and then flew back through my window, meeting my face.)
Despite the length at which I’ve written here, I’m yet to
mention the aspects of culture here that grab my attention the most, the ones
that impress me the most, and the ones that teach me the most. Here are a few:
- Hospitality
of an amazing level. When I get sick, I
stay at my boss’s house until I am better – and his wife, mother and
sister-in-law are so kind in taking care of me.
When I am hungry and craving food that tastes better than what I can
cook on my own, the women in my landlord’s family all come over and teach me
how to make something satisfying. And
then they invite me over to their house for a second round. (I’m still getting used to the requirement of
needing to eat a big plate of rice after a full meal. Refusing rice in Haveri is a major
offense. A few times, when feeling very
full, I’ve suggested that they serve me just a small portion of rice. Response: No!
Big portion! You need it for
health!)
- If you go
to a restaurant, even if everyone picks a dish (menus aren’t really necessary
here, since every place serves pretty much the same thing) it is automatically
assumed that everything will be shared.
So, when the food is served, a spoon of each dish lands on everyone’s
plate. I love this.
- In Haveri
family is truly sacred, but in a very natural way. Extended families cook together, eat
together, live together, and pray together as if there were no other way. Spending time together, just sitting around,
is enough.
I am so fortunate to have been taken in by families
here. I spend time with my landlord’s
family every day (unless I’m out of station – yes, some colonial expressions
are still very much in use), and am so grateful for how quickly they took to me
in (despite their initial fears that, as an American, I had swine flu). Having people waiting for me when I come home
– especially Deepoo running to me yelling akka! (older sister!) – makes a huge
difference in my time here, and makes goals like learning Kannada seem a bit
less daunting and a lot more worthwhile.
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